


just the way you like it

by inconsequentialvrb



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Dom/sub, I wish I were more ashamed of this?, Impact Play, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys, Sub Roy, dom Ed, though very brief, write the porn you want to see in the world right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inconsequentialvrb/pseuds/inconsequentialvrb
Summary: Roy sees himself being pulled in his bedroom's direction, thinking nothing in this world could possibly be more satisfying than the prodigious, beautiful, biting college student that dominates the fuck out of him on a regular basis.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 9
Kudos: 70





	just the way you like it

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this before I have time to regret it. 
> 
> ~~thank you Rosie and Alena for the eternal inspiration, oof~~

Living in this prison made of flesh can oftentimes make for a thrilling experience, when one is placed by the right partner, that is. 

Roy loathes the way coffee scalds his tongue when he’s dashing through courtrooms; hates when the cuffs on his shirt refuse to cooperate with his fingers; despises the way stress settles on his shoulders; how anger coils in his stomach as scorching acid. 

The upside to being so damn sensitive, of course, is the gut-punch of coming home to one of the most visceral and maddening sights there is. That is, opening the door to find Edward’s boots discarded on the foyer; his coat already stuck to one of the hooks by the wall. 

Roy considers the apparent stillness of his apartment and swallows a lump made of tingling agitation at the thought of being as a helpless animal, walking straight into the jaws of a stalking prey.

When he and Edward had agreed to schedule a scene for sometime during the week, it had been through a casual text conversation; unsuspecting enough for him to have thought it’d take some further arranging before actually going through with it. That being said, it has also been established that Roy doesn’t really mind being surprised once their intentions have been made clear — hence Edward’s knowledge of where his spare key is usually hidden — and the way his fingers start itching with anticipation makes it evident that this occasion will be no different. 

Trepidation keeps fueling his hammering heart as he almost forgets to kick his own shoes off before dropping the briefcase by the side and slipping out of his black suit coat; all hasty, trembling limbs as he advances further into the hall that gives way to an open living room. 

“Took you long enough,” Ed’s voice nearly pushes him an inch in the air. Roy turns around to face the kitchen counter, against which the younger man is casually leaning with an open book under his propped up elbows. He doesn’t look up from it, but the mere intonation lets Roy know all about what he can expect from tonight, and he can already feel his groin tighten with impatience. 

It is that same voice used to warn him about the consequences of masturbating without permission. The one that all-too naturally leans into the authority of ‘ _You wanna say that again?_ ’. The one that makes his skin erupt in flame; his cheeks warm in embarrassment; his cock harder than what’s probably even healthy.

In short — not that he would say it aloud —, Ed doesn’t need to add anything for Roy to get his cue. 

“Sorry,” Roy manages, wondering if Ed will allow him a glass of water before they start — to avoid dying from the heatstroke provoked by existing in such close proximity to his dominating persona, and all. He mentally cuffs himself out of that thought, for even if Edward can be ruthless, he isn’t unreasonable, and certainly not inhumane, and everyone needs water, even heavenly, ethereal beings such as Ed could understand that — surely. 

Ed clears his throat and a shiver threatens to rip him apart. _“Sorry_ , what,” he deadpans, still not gracing him with so much as a glance. 

It takes him a second, perhaps because he always looks incredible with his hair tied into a ponytail and wearing darker colors. 

“Sorry, sir,” He quickly mends. Ed simply flips a page in a wave of indifference, but hums in satisfaction while Roy bites down on the instinctive compliment about his looks, even though the insufferably coy remark is at the tip of his tongue. 

Ed seems to be in the kind of mood where he would probably call him ‘cute’ before slapping him — which is not an awful thing to entertain, mind you, but he also very much enjoys simply stepping down and seeing where the current takes him. 

So Roy stands aimlessly with his suit jacket folded over his forearm instead, watching in awe as Ed flicks invisible fuzz off the tabletop, which is probably the materialized tension from the heavy air surrounding them, before giving a bored, clipped sigh. Seconds later, he moves to slap the cover shut, snapping his head up in that same motion and the eye contact makes Roy feel like he’s being poked with an electric cattle prod. 

“I have something exciting planned for today,” He says, the corners of his lips tugging mischievously to the sides. Roy doesn’t have to believe this man is evil; Edward very much takes that impression and turns it into gospel at times like these. He’s the ultimate villain; Armageddon incarnate. Roy is so ready for this.

He stands his ground as Ed rounds the counter, walking on leisurely steps until only a few inches of heated oxygen stand between them. Two golden orbs drape themselves over his frame as Edward gives him a going over before reaching out to his jacket, sliding it out of his grasp. Roy easily lets the younger man lift it to the side only to toss it on the ground next to them, reminding himself that this all started because of how insufferable he found Ed’s brand of casual incivility to be — in that it was insufferably arousing. 

The wicked twinkle in his eye suggests that, if anything, Roy is being tested. Ed wouldn’t put it past him to break character simply to give in to his OCD-riddled tidying whims and pick it up, expertly folding the garment to place it on the couch, even fluffing out the cloth before anything else happens — but after Edward has had a laugh and called him a ‘Prissy bastard’ for the umpteenth time since they’ve known each other. 

Roy smothers the itch to prove his point, carefully schooling his posture and expression. It’s just a suit jacket. It is washable. The floors are always kept immaculate in case Ed feels like making him lick something off the ground — of course, obviously, but also as a general rule of sanitation. It’s alright. 

Ed’s smile acquires a mild hint of amusement, no doubt catching a glimpse of his internal monologue, before he finally moves to close the distance between the two, letting both his hands cradle either side of his jaw — a touch like heaven. 

The warmth emanating from Ed’s fingertips immediately thrusts the rest of the world away as he tilts his head up to brush his soft, parted lips against his. Roy almost strains to keep himself from pushing back into his mouth; he knows better now that to enact his impulse instead of letting the moment be fully guided by Ed’s direction. 

This, however, doesn’t stop his body from reacting to the frustration, warmth immediately traveling to the building tension in his groin. When the younger man’s scorching breath gently speaks against his lips to say, “You as excited as me?” It takes everything in him not to shiver. 

“Yes, sir,” He breathes, letting his eyes fall closed. 

“Hmm, good,” Ed rumbles, Roy can practically hear the wolfish grin before an unexpected hand holds the back of his head. In a split second, Ed’s fingers go taut as he curls his fist at his hair, tugging him back. 

He barely gets halfway down a throaty gasp before they’re moving towards the bedroom at a relentless pace, which leaves Roy near scrambling to follow through, head bowed under Ed’s unyielding grip. And so it begins. 

Walking past a parade of his mundane (and tilted) household objects, Roy can’t help the delighted giggle that falls past his mouth. Delirious, even. He sees himself being pulled past his furniture — symbols of this achieved and loathsome bourgeoise lifestyle —, a tv set, stacks of piled books and odd pictures, thinking nothing in this world could possibly be more satisfying than the prodigious, beautiful, biting college student that dominates the fuck out of him of a regular basis. 

“Someone’s in a funny mood today,” Ed comments, punctuated by the way he lets go of him in favor of pushing his body further into the room until he stands by the foot of the bed, denoting his remarkable strength — and just how much shit Roy would eat were they to physically spar. “I guess I can work with that.” He considers. “Strip.” 

In the slip second it takes him to execute the order, Roy takes note of the mahogany headboard in front of him, as well as the glass and fresh pitcher filled with water that sits atop his left nightstand. Of course, Ed always considers these sorts of things beforehand; it’s common for him to organize every detail and plan ahead of Roy’s possible needs, because of which it’s strange that his chest still flutters at the implication. Stubbornly excited at his care for the little details, like it’s unusual. 

“Stop.” Ed calmly commands just as he’s about to undo his buttons after discarding the tie. Roy lets his arms fall to his sides while awaiting further instruction as Edward steps closer behind him. He feels his eyes on his back like a tickling wave of unresolved motion, breathing quietly. 

“Pants first.” He says after a moment. Roy obliges, thinking only of the cold buckle against the skin on his hands, the light metal rattle as he unfastens it, the sound of leather being pulled away from his hips as he slides it out. 

He unknowingly makes the mistake of tossing it beside the tie at the edge of the mattress before Ed tuts at him, which causes a banquet of sensations he doesn’t even have the processing capacities to name. 

“Pick it up.” Ed clarifies. “Hand it over.” He adds as Roy slightly bends to retrieve the belt, and the weight of his words, as well as the promise in them, near _annihilates_ him, but he wastes no time in placing the piece on Ed’s extended, waiting palm. 

Likewise, Ed doesn’t spare a moment before he’s testing the item in his hands, tensing the leather a couple of times after he expertly folds it in half. The room is soon filled with his joyous mockery as he snickers at Roy.

“How much did this _cost_ you, you prim idiot?” He says, eyeing the inscription at the edge of the strap. 

Roy is only a man. A man with a generous salary (granted) and, according to some very rude people, pretentious taste (unwarranted), but he’s also a man who can’t help the canny smile that comes through at Edward’s teasing. 

He _also_ can’t help but think back to one of the first times he and Ed spoke, where the conversation was almost entirely focused on making fun of the fact that he used rechargeable fountain pens, _‘Like a proper sociopath’,_ and Roy couldn’t find it in himself to be truly annoyed at any of Edward’s jabs. It’s been a while since then, and they both understand how growing up in relative poverty makes these sorts of silly exploits all the more amusing. Ed doesn’t complain about how he spends his money when there are copious amounts of takeout and heated floor tiles involved. 

Right now, though, it might be safe to say Ed isn’t having it for any of his charms. He clicks his tongue and cocks his head in Roy’s direction.

“Pants. I didn’t tell you to stop.” And so Roy goes on, stepping out of his trousers and trying not to give in to the bubbling joy that threatens to spill out of his every pore. It’s very different from the thrill he gets out of going into subspace, but the anticipatory pleasure is intoxicating in its own right. 

Once that’s over with and he’s carefully folded them by the side, Ed tells him to stop again. Roy catches his eyes as he nods towards the bed. 

“Bend over,” Edward says. And _Jesus wept_ — or however the hell that one goes. Christian lore has never been a particular kink of his. 

Roy’s mouth is watering at the sight of Ed still holding his belt in his determined, deft palms. A posture accentuated by the firm lines of his jaw. A merciless young sovereign with a taste for sadism — which is just his thing, and even though they’ve been at this for some time, Roy is still rather taken by how easily Edward slides into the role; how well it fits him, like a tailored glove. This is exactly what makes it so easy for him to simply follow. 

He lowers himself to kneel over his bed’s edge, placing his chin atop the mattress while Ed rounds him like a jaguar. 

“Let’s see if your posh accessories are worth the trouble.” He lightly chuckles. “When was the last time we gave you a good spanking, hm?” Ed drops the words on him like honey as he trails the material over his clothed ass, making him choke on his spit, hands slightly curling on the duvet. It actually _has_ been long since they did it, and they both know that’ll make for quite some desperation on his part. 

“It’s too bad you enjoy it so much — I can’t actually use this as punishment.” The leather licks his lower back and moves on to caress the length of his spine. He clamps down on a growing moan, instead letting it out as a heavy sigh that still sounds too wanton for such an early stage.

Ed huffs. “See what I mean?” 

That alone prompts him to bury his face into the bed with nothing but an undignified groan, which is nothing, in terms of embarrassment, when compared to the sound he makes as two sets of fingers hook themselves into the hem of his boxers and swiftly pull them down. He manages to keep his hips’ squirming to a bare minimum as he feels Ed’s eyes burning into his backside while the piece of clothing lingers around his knees. 

It always feels dirtier when he’s not completely naked — something about the stark contrast in such staples of civilization, versus the basest instinct to bare a part of himself in the hopes of receiving a thorough beating. 

“Goddamn,” He hears Ed mutter at the sight. 

A beat passes before he speaks again. “How many should I give you?” He asks, mildly playful as he leans next to Roy with a hand placed by his head, dipping the mattress under his weight.

Roy knows this one. He turns his face to the side in order to answer, “As many as you’d like, sir,” He says, faint as a whisper and without opening his eyes. 

“Really?” Ed utters impassively, leaning further down until his breath can be felt on the back of Roy’s neck. “And what if I want to give you… Say, one lash.” He drawls. 

Roy smirks despite himself. “Then by all means, make it count.” 

Ed’s laugh is biting, confident, doubtlessly terrifying and malicious and all things _bad_. His hand hovers over his head and Roy narrowly avoids flinching before Ed simply ruffles his hair in a condescending manner. 

“Clever.” He clips sarcastically. There’s a saying about this, isn’t there? Something about making your own bed and laying down to die in it. Roy gulps, his cock reacting to the fright with a single twitch. 

“I forget you always talk too much. Next time, remind me to bring the tongue gag.” The reference to that instrument makes his body stir in a million directions. It holds a special place in his mind over any other mouth gag, perhaps because it’s the most daunting toy to look at in his opinion. Roy is very much a lost case when it comes to basic survival instincts, as he has just effectively proven. 

His mind is taken off the fantasy as Ed whips the air in a sharp motion, trying it out once. Roy clenches his eyelids as he hears Ed take a short breath. 

“Alright, then,” He asserts in an awfully gentle tone, “One it is.”

And the ambient itself ripples with the force of his might, which swiftly delivers a single strike to the stretch of skin between his ass and thighs — a problematic enough area, one particularly despised by him, one that’s just a touch too sensitive as well as not placed right enough for any strike be fully enjoyable. Roy nearly shrieks at the devastating blow, his hips buck forward through the potency of it which in turn makes the entire bedframe move. 

It takes a second for the aftershock to travel up his spine, expanding it’s painful claws down through his chest and making his ears ring for a moment. The best-slash-worst part is always the itch that lingers on his skin. Before he knows it, there are a few tears prickling at his eyes. He distantly hears something move out of the corner of his gaze before he feels Ed’s calloused palm caress the delicate, freshly abused skin. He softly pants, only wishing he would use his hand on him, but doesn’t dare voice this desire at the risk of further discipline. 

As the contacts promptly disappears, Ed’s legs come within his view when he moves to sit beside him, settling his hand back into Roy’s hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. 

“Now tell me,” He starts, “How did that feel?” 

Roy _mewls._

“Not too good, huh?” Roy shakes his head, quickly blinking the moisture away. The patronizing tone combined with the movement of Ed’s soothing fingers is enough to keep the damp spot at the head of his dick growing, which is also a steady sign of him rounding the edges of complete submission. 

The sensation makes his head swim; Ed handles him too well. 

“If you’re really good tonight, I’ll properly take you over my knee soon. I’ll spank you with my bare hand and everything, just the way you like it.” He promises, and Roy has to actively suppress the urge to buck his hips again in search of friction. “How does that sound?” 

“Yessir,” He slurs mindlessly instead, sighing shakily at the prospect. Ed is talented with almost any tool he uses, but little compares to the sting of his hand and the burning humiliation of wanting to grind himself onto his lap — of barely resisting the need. Such was the first activity they ever tried together, after months of unresolved tension and a few sessions of discussing their tastes and boundaries. Needless to say, it worked out marvelously: he left Edward’s dorm room with a raging erection hidden under his coat, a sore backside, and an untameable grin that probably made him look like a lost, white-collared jerk who’d had a turn at a fraternity’s communal bong. 

Edward gives a soft laugh before getting up in a single stride. “On the bed. Kneel, facing the headboard.”

Roy uses his hold on the duvet to push himself up and starts climbing into the bedding, relishing the softness of the sheets on his palms and knees as the fabric whispers through his motion and his boxers slide back towards his ankles. He then sees an arrangement he’d failed to take note of before, and that is the small pile of propped-up pillows that accumulate on the left side of the frame. Ed approaches it with an unknown object in his hands before chancing a look back at Roy; his shining irises cast an edge that makes him feel like his seams are being picked apart, one by one.

He turns to reveal a classic wand vibrator, one they’ve used on previous occasions. While it is true that it’s basically a subsection of penetrative toys, this particular accessory has also made for a gripping experience when used exclusively for genital stimulation. He can see Edward making fun of him for talking so clinically about their toys, as he did the time they went shopping for this one in particular, but he’d like to think it has more to do with being serious about the whole endeavor — as well as respectful to the retail sales workers in charge of answering their questions. 

Either way, the wand was definitely a great acquisition. Not that he’d show any qualms about Ed’s choices whenever they visit a sex shop; rather he limits himself to pulling out his wallet once the younger man has made his selection and perhaps a gallant comment or two about how he plans to use it on him, much to the dismay of his warming cheeks.

The thing about this one is that it isn’t battery operated, however long the cable might be, and he has the gnawing suspicion that that’s the reason for how close to the nightstand the whole arrangement is. Once again, his moronic mouth can’t help itself as he repeats the exact words he chose when first Ed lifted the boxed toy in front of him. 

“Wired,” He says, breathy, still on his hands and knees. “How old school.” 

“You don’t get to say anything about ‘old’, you fuckin’ eighties child,” Ed answers, perhaps cutting him some slack only for the fondness of the memory that his reference evokes. He arranges the cord to plug it into the socket behind the lamp on the bedside table before proceeding to place the vibrator in an upright position, cushioned by the white pillows behind it. 

“Come here,” Ed beckons him closer with curled fingers. Roy is like a circuited puppet as he moves further down until a hand on his shoulder makes him stop a few inches shy from where the toy rests. That same hold nudges him to sit back on his calves, exposing his erection, the base of which is covered by a sliver of fabric from the shirt he’s still wearing. Ed gives him a feather-light squeeze before letting his hand travel down his back in one single, soothing motion. He nods in his collar’s direction. 

“Shirt and socks.” He says in reference to the only two items still covering his body. 

Roy brings his fingers up while eyeing the vibrator in front of him and works each button with minimal trembling, which is an impressive feat in the face of this much uncertainty. He rolls his shoulders to completely drop the garment and doesn’t bother with folding this one because some things, such as the clashing temperature of the cool bedroom on his exposed skin, are much more attention-grabbing than the due process of clothing treatment. The socks go off with a little more haste, but once it’s done and he’s arranged himself back into position, Edward hands him a half-filled glass of water which he never saw him fill. 

He dumbly stares at it for a little longer than is probably acceptable before Ed slightly swishes its content at him. 

“C’mon, last chance before we start.” He says. Roy’s mind finally clicks into place and he remembers just how dry his mouth has been this entire time. He nods while taking it in his left hand, promptly bringing the cold liquid to his lips, which feels simply marvelous. He downs it while trying not to blush at Ed’s considerate ministrations. Once he’s drained the glass and handed it back to him, the fun begins. 

When Edward sets the glass back down on the wooden surface behind him, the sound of the motion reverberates as the final punctuation mark it is. His quick hand comes forward and he pushes the wand on. The steady hum of its vibration fills the atmosphere alongside Roy’s racing heart. Despite its movement, the slight dip its weight has created on the pillow perfectly frames the toy’s stance. 

“So, it’s a pretty simple game,” Ed starts. “Up and down.” 

Roy’s mouth falls slightly open as he considers the fact that it’s been turned on at a relatively high setting — the relativeness of which, of course, will soon be tested by none other than himself. 

“Are you listening to me?” Ed snaps, curving his fingers around the nape of his neck on a warning note. 

“Y-yes. Yes sir.” He stammers. 

Edward sighs in annoyance before continuing. “You can rub yourself on this when I say ‘down’, but you stop and get off of it the second — and let me make this abundantly fucking clear — the _second_ I say the word ‘up’. Understood?” He says, marked by the way he slightly tightens his hold on Roy’s neck.

He swallows the dread that builds on his throat, takes a shallow breath in, and nods. He briefly glances at the darkened tip of his dick and hopes to harness every single shred of determination in his miserable being. 

“Good.” Ed commends. “Hands behind your back.” Roy does as told, holding one palm over the other, grateful to have something to hold onto as this scenario unfolds. 

A few painstaking seconds add themselves to his building anxiety before he remembers to take another breath, setting his jaw in something like determination. Edward doesn’t stop looking at him with ominous intent. 

“Down.” He finally says.

Roy slightly scoots closer before lowering his pelvis to make contact with the pulsating wand. The sound that escapes his lips is somewhat involuntary, in that he didn’t expect it to come out as surprised. It’s been a while since he touched himself (or had Ed touch him, for that matter) with the aid of anything like this, so the sensation is pleasantly unexpected. 

The vibrations instantly ripple through his shaft with a stirring buzz as he continues to moan; the pleasure soon becomes all-encompassing and he lets out a deep, open-mouthed sigh. After some scattered seconds, he begins slightly thrusting into the toy, tentatively at first, rubbing the underside of his glans against the soft material. The motion grants him another wave of fluttering satisfaction and he doesn’t try swallowing the unashamed keening that turns into an aroused groan at the tail end of it. 

Roy bites his lower lip. 

“Up.” Ed cuts his inspiration like a searing knife. Roy immediately leans off, letting the tension in his lower stomach sit there as he clenches his hands. The chemicals coursing under his skin still provide him with a constant thrill, but they now have nowhere to focus on as his only source of stimulation has been abruptly taken. 

He understands what Ed intends to make him feel. And it’s not that their play hasn’t included a vast account of orgasm control in the past, but that doesn’t make each time any less intimidating. He only wishes he knew what Edwards' endgame is, here. He knows Roy well enough to make every order completely intentional, every move very much calculated, and the final result all a part of his plan. 

“Down,” Edward speaks with an affable tone. 

Roy wastes no time in pushing back against the wand this time, going for the place around the crown of his cock that felt so good on his first try. He sighs in something akin to relief, feeling the warmth expand towards his fingertips. The particular excitement brought about by a vibrating toy is one of those things one is prone to forget the complete intensity of. 

The pleasure starts easily mounting after that, he breathlessly moans and whines for a stretch of time as his hips roll in small movements, aided by the streaks of precum his dick paints on the silicone. 

“Up.” Ed orders. Roy’s eyes fly open as he gets off of it again, only this time his thighs resent the movement, mildly quivering under him at the setback. His abdomen involuntarily stiffens and he has to suppress a vexed grumble. 

He sits back on his calves and ankles, looking down at the light blue comforter under his knees. It feels like entire minutes pass while the teasing stick keeps relentlessly humming in front of him, a mere fingerbreadth out of reach while Ed keeps his scrutinizing eyes on him without uttering a single word. Roy’s teeth worry at his inner cheek as his cock slightly spasms through the force of the denial, but he tells himself he ought to hold out for however long Ed wants him to. 

“ _Down_...” Ed intones, drawn out. 

Roy is on the toy before Edward has even finished the word and the contact explodes in an uncontrolled sea of sensation. His hips buck with a lot less decorum than what he’d procured for himself before and he drags the tip of his cock to the side, wanting to get as much out of it while he can. He chases the tingle and climbs the mountain of agitated arousal in a frenzy, going a bit faster —

“Up.” 

His hips stutter at the order, but he manages to obey despite the screaming opposition of his entire body. As he suddenly leans a tad sideways, Roy extends his right hand to steady himself on the duvet. 

Ed clicks his tongue and before he can process the meaning behind it, there’s a palm swiftly smacking itself down on his inner thigh — another thing he much despises. He groans in retaliation, which of course only grants him another slap in the same exact spot. 

“When did I say you could free your hand.” Edward bites. Roy’s muscles clench with the needling of the strikes as he fights the need to close his legs. He looks up at him through the disheveled hair that’s fallen into his eyes, Edward simply limits himself to looking back, completely unamused. He caves into the moment and begrudgingly brings his hands back to their designated position. 

Then, as if Ed had been reading his thoughts (at the very least a part of them, the ones not fragmented by his frustrated arousal), he says, “I’ve always got you, you know that.” In reference to him slightly losing his balance seconds prior. “All you have to do is follow my orders, yes?” And of course, he’d somehow managed to forget all about how much Edward enjoys this aspect of domination, the one centered around making sure every single element of his arousal is handled and every detail about his physical well-being taken care of. That very much goes in accordance with his usual self — the joy he finds in simply taking care of others. 

“Yeah…” He whispers, trying not to think about how warm the sentiment makes him feel. He instead uses the impetus of the moment to let himself sink further into docility, forgetting all about his gripes on the matter.

“Down.” Ed tells him. This time, the angle at which the wand’s head kisses his tip is like being touched with a barbed wire. He flinches and gasps at the sharpened tickle before leaning down more fully, this time careful not to accidentally overstimulate himself by pushing the length on it instead, rubbing his cock in a linear, vertical motion. 

The whine that rips out of him is prolonged and embarrassing, but he can’t find it in himself to care in the glorious, stretched out moments during which he’s allowed to remain like this. 

When Ed says “Up” again, he all but slouches back with a bothered whimper he doesn’t try to control. 

“Oh? Fed up already?” He teases and Roy begins to squirm, showing no indication of any higher intellectual processing as all he gives back are disgruntled breaths, heavy with discontent. 

Edward’s chortle should be nothing short of infuriating, but at the moment it is all his body needs to keen in further lust. “You look real pretty when you’re all bothered, you know that?” He says, to which he can only whimper in response, watching the way Ed uncrosses his arms and goes back to caressing some locks of raven hair, pushing them behind his ear in an idle motion. “I should take your picture like this, in case you don’t believe me.” He almost whispers, not halting his gentle strokes as he says “Down.” 

The way his breath quickens so immediately is positively shaming, but it’s soon cut off by a throaty moan as he revels in the vibration, desperately rolling his hips. 

“Up.” Roy _sobs_. The cruelty in his orders is too dissonant from the way he keeps affectionately brushing his fingers through his hair — yet he doesn’t have time to think about it before Ed says “Down” again. 

He much-too vigorously obeys, cutting his own cry short to dip back into the uncontested pleasure, grinding harder than ever before on the toy, his dick gushes another drop of precum —

“Up.” 

“ _Hnnngh_ ,” He scrapes out, grunting as he promptly breaks the collision between his cock and the vibrator, categorically _aching_ all over. 

“You’re such a good listener,” Ed speaks, somewhat out of breath himself. 

His voice miraculously manages to get past the way every breath is sticking to his windpipe through the sheer agitation going on in his chest and groin, in order to form a single word.

“ _Please…_ ,” He hoarsely begs, panting. 

Edward has the audacity — as always — to tilt his head to the side in faux confusion, his hand still petting him. 

“What?”

“Pl…” He breathes, stopping short at the reminder that Ed doesn’t much like it when he aimlessly repeats himself. “Let me come…” He quietly pleads. “I really want to c—”

“I know you do.” Ed states. 

“Please,” He discordantly moans, “I’m really close,”

“I know you are.”

“But it — but,” He starts to blubber, no different from a child throwing a tantrum before Ed’s grip tightens once again, pulling at his scalp. 

“But what?” He dares. _Dares_. Roy is very fucking frustrated; not suicidal. 

He squirms around Ed’s hold, lowering his gaze in submission after a second. “N-nothing,” He works out. 

“Yeah, thought as much,” He answers. Though Roy thinks he might start crying in earnest if Ed doesn’t say anything else soon enough. His ragged panting fills the silence for the few moments it takes him to gather a part of his bearings. 

“Down.” Edward allows shortly after, letting go of him. He eagerly lowers his abdomen once again and it’s as if his suffering simply starts all over, and _fuck_ , he never read about this particular circle of hell. 

At this point it just feels too good — the device’s reverberation seems too strong; the skin on his cock too docile to the whims of its merciless, unending motion. 

He tries to focus, to keep breathing in through his nose. 

He tries thinking back to all the other times in which Ed’s subjected him to far, far worse, to the point in which he got actually paranoid that his cries would irremediably scandalize his neighbors and make the building’s administration kick him out without minding the lease contract. 

‘ _It's a good thing you argue for a living, then,_ ’ Ed had gutsily told him in response. 

None of it seems to be enough to stop his dick from throbbing to the beat of his pounding chest, leaving leak after leak of moisture on the vibrator as he sails through all kinds of hopeless sounds he wasn’t even aware he was capable of making. The skin on his face is due to burn off of him at any second, the thin layer of sweat covering his chest is starting to make itself known through the pleasured shivers that hijack his body and his cock is hard enough to begin to hurt. It’s too bad pain only ever adds to the thrill. 

“Up.” Ed ordains. 

He takes a breath that goes out in the form of a broken wail, there is no other way to name it. His thighs are shaking as he tries to keep his balance without the aid of hands, still safe in the reminder that Ed hasn’t left his side. He quite dejectedly wishes the younger man would offer more contact, because this level of stimulation only ever leaves him hungry for the warmth of his touch, guiding him through the upsurge that leads to his orgasm. 

“Down.”

He pathetically sobs in blatant satisfaction — he’s already there. He’s at the plain of his climax. His toes curl and his chest heaves and he is so, so close he can taste the reprieve of the outbreak that’ll make him _combust_ —

“ _Up_.” Edward lacerates his high with the potency of his most authoritative tone. 

“A-ah — no, _no —_ ” Roy howls, obeying the command despite himself, effectively denying himself the tact as his orgasm tips over and bursts out of him in long strings of cum, completely untouched. 

He practically screeches past the peak of it as his dick keeps dripping fat drops of his release, staining his stomach and part of his thighs with the spasming movement of his shaft — like furious it had to be this way. He screws his eyes shut as the wave of his disappointing climax passes through; the aftershock soon commandeering his every limb as his knuckles go white with his quasi-neurosis. Ed brings his hand down to clutch his, holding it through his anguish. 

He resists the urge to curl into himself, to frantically rub into the mattress under him in search of some sort of absolution, however small it may be. 

The reason for his frustration is clear as day, Edward thinks as he sees Roy come on his knees and sob through his spoiled orgasm, he doesn’t get to finish with his face buried on Ed’s shoulder, like when he rides his cock at an amazing pace; he doesn’t get to let go while feeling the warmth of his hand or mouth envelop his dick, or with a few fingers up his ass while Ed drives his tongue into his pliant mouth. 

Mustang is one kinky fucker, to be sure, but he’s also a sucker for the most disgustingly romantic shit there is — and the rare combination of both aspects is something Ed would rather not even get started on. 

He wants to roll his eyes at himself every time he sees all the little ways in which Roy has infected him with that same brand of sap. He didn’t use to be so into light, caressing touches before he met him, for one, but now he finds that he really can’t resist the urge to nestle his charming, pale face between his palms to brush the pads of his thumbs over his cheekbones. 

“Did you feel any of that?” He asks, roaming his eyes over his well-defined features and the profuse color on his cheeks while two sets of thick eyelashes flutter. Goddamn, this man is attractive. He’ll never cease to be amazed at how lucky he is, to have a person like him want to be ordered around by someone such as himself. 

“No…” He answers with a low whine, nearly pouting. Ed bites down on his malicious smile. 

“Good.” He says before leaning in to plant a wet kiss on his lips, swollen from how hard he bit them at some point. Roy practically melts into the touch, and Ed doesn’t know what to make of the backflip something inside his chest does at that. 

He has Roy lay down on his side after taking the vibrator and front pillow off the bed, unplugging the former and leaving it by the nightstand for now, while tossing the latter into the laundry basket on his way to the bathroom. 

He will never get over the stupid clapper control that turns the warm lights on in here, it always makes him feel regal while on his way to take a piss, and _that’s_ the type of enchantment only money can buy. If only he could say these were his _boyfriend’s_ home appliances, how rad would that be — but the thought seems too invasive and he quickly swats it away. This isn’t what Roy wants of him, and neither does he, to be honest. 

Their current arrangement works just fine in all its casualness. In fact, it’s safe to assume that any other compromise could potentially ruin the fun in what they do. 

Yeah, this is actually perfect. 

He tries not gushing over how quickly hot water comes out of the tap as he wets a clean hand towel, proceeding to wring it and walk back into the bedroom, where he finds a mortified-looking Roy. Christ, this guy is _also_ the most dramatic dumbass he’s ever met. He smiles, even if he maybe didn’t intend to. 

“Hey, on your back,” He gently nudges. Mustang groans tiredly but complies, giving him access to his messy front. Ed gets to working his thighs first, he considers the smooth skin under the towel’s fabric before moving on to his navel, then slightly passing it over his balls and softened cock, to which he reacts with a violent twitch. 

“Shh, shh,” He smoothly consoles him. “I won’t go hard, I promise,” He assures, swiping the damp material over Roy again, careful not to overstimulate him any further and drinking in the soft moans that leave his lips at the contact. 

“You were _amazing_ , you know that?” He says, chuckling breathlessly while contemplating the peach-like texture of his skin, patting the towel on it a few more times than what’s probably necessary. “I can’t believe you managed to obey me so well, like, shit, I wanna give you a medal or something,” 

Roy snorts without opening his eyes, already falling into the sleepy haze that usually ensues after a particularly intense scene. It doesn’t escape him that practically everything they do takes a larger toll on him, both physically and emotionally speaking. This is largely part of why he never lets the guy get him off straight after, no matter how much he might insist, and no matter how much his own hardness presses against his pants. Thankfully, he seems too tired to go through with that today. And to be honest, the sole memory of this scene ought to be inspirational enough to get him off more than once in the near future, which to him is already plenty.

He doesn’t suggest a bath because Mustang’s answer is 110% assured to be something along the lines of ‘Fuck no.’ He can’t blame him for going boneless after something like what they just did. 

“Let’s try that on a full bladder next time,” Ed eases while finishing up. Roy only manages a half-hearted grunt in response, which of course prompts him to reply, “I’ll take that as a yes, please, permission granted; can’t fucking wait to submerge myself in the world of piss kinks — pun fully intended — in fact, how’s your schedule looking tomorrow, Ed?” He teases. 

Roy heaves through his sarcastic laugh. “Your _schedule_ contemplates buying me a nice meal, at the very least. One that includes dessert,” Ed smirks at him, not that Roy can see it. 

He walks over to the second drawer on his dresser in search of a good-enough pajama top. He finds his washed-out generational Harvard tee and brings it over, nearly pulling him upwards to clothe the man before beckoning him into the lushness of his mega-soft comforter, tucking his spent body into the enveloping compassion of the covers before he starts shaking. 

The way he rubs the side of his face into the softness of his pillow with a light sigh is like watching that video Al showed him about the deer and the golden retriever getting along in the wilderness. His brain’s serotonin reserves go haywire. 

“My god, you’re an actual kitten,” He says. 

Roy’s brow lightly furrows, and that’s just a little too much for Ed’s already-flustered being. It’s like when people around campus have _actually_ mistaken him for his boyfriend whenever he comes around to hang out and… Hey, what the hell is _that_ all about? 

“Stay a little,” Roy mumbles, “Aren’t you tired, too?”

“Oh, I’m staying.” He huffs, slightly offended at the implication that he’d be shitty enough to just up and leave after a few minutes. “Someone needs to make sure you eventually take a fuckin’ bath,” He chides, not stopping himself from repetitively grazing his knuckles over Roy’s smooth jawbone. 

“Get in here,” Mustang weakly grumbles after a second, “J’st five minutes…” 

“Yeah, right,” Ed snorts, but he’s already rounding the bed to get in from the other side. Once he’s slid under and feels the warmth emanating from Roy’s body as he shifts to face Ed, he lets go of one of those sighs he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Holy fuck…” He says, “Am I doing this because of you or because of your _bed_?” 

Roy smiles while cracking one eye open. “Wouldn’t I like to know,” 

“Yeah fuck baths, you’re right. Baths are canceled.” Mustang snickers, and with that, he suddenly loses himself in the expanse of these thousand-and-something-thread sheets, letting himself relax and drop his full weight onto the mattress. 

Subs usually have a more taxing experience, sure, but the effort that went into maintaining his composure while Roy fell apart like that also took a toll on him, which is why he usually sees Roy’s aftercare as a simultaneous kind of deal where he, too, gets to unwind a little through the act. 

“So how was your day,” He tries before a yawn takes over him.

“Hmm, rather shit,” Roy annotates, which makes Ed giggle like an idiot. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Burnt my tongue with a cappuccino and nearly crashed into a red Volvo on my way back.”

“Jesus,” Ed muses, to which Roy hums in agreeance. “When will you actually get around to passing your drivers test, I wonder,” He jabs at him, eliciting an indignant noise from the man. 

“I’ve _passed_ it —” He cuts himself off, probably remembering that Ed very well knows this fact. “Anyway, I do not remember asking for your opinion on my affairs,” He settles straight after, probably intending to sound assertive but failing with how the afterglow has left him immersed in a supple state, as it usually does. He marvels at how this here is an actual big shot litigator — someone who postures for a living and whom only he gets to see and hear and touch like this; trembling under his hands as he’s picked apart. 

Roy pulls the covers further around his neck. “Besides, crashes don’t scare me; I’m insured up to my teeth,” 

“Right,” Ed drawls, smiling lazily in the dim light around them. He swallows the unexplainable urge he has to say something like ‘ _Well, I’m glad your tongue survived,_ ’ as a sloppy segue to take his chin between his thumb and pointer and kiss him again, tight and deep and scorching, just the way they both like it. 

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
